#new tag for word things when i go off bout literature

[shoezuki]

writing my final essay on the Beat Generation rn and that whole literary movement in america. and my essay topic is basically me arguing that bob kaufman Fucks and was the best beat. because tbh he was

but this also like. contains a lot of my distaste for the beat movement and that this course has really made me more.... like. i dont really like the beat movement much? i mean the biggest aspect of it, of the idea of freedom and no responsibility or consequences is somethin i dont like. most the other shit, bout sexual freedom and movement and anticapitalist n antimaterialist notions are all good. but the beats are just so inherently American. the underlying idea of freedom is SO inherently american in terms of like... the idea of it. its so very 'i can do whatever i want, whenever i want, and i dont care if it hurts other people because i value my freedom over the consequences or responsibilities i would be expected to assume.' its this idea of freedom in terms of absolute individuality and its far too self absorbed for me.

but another Issue i take w it was like. the movement was heavily inspired by black culture, and all about defying social norms and rejecting conformity. but there was still a major issue with norms in the movement itself or at least in terms of how media perceived it. like yes it was about liberty and freedom but also all the most well known beat writers are white dudes. many of them like kerouac held views of women as inherently lesser still.

and like. in that regard most of the most known beats who are like. THE beat writers. were kinda hypocrites. like kerouac didnt think women could write and when he met one woman who was a good writers he saw her as an exception. and with burroughs he was like, from an extremely wealthy family and was given an 'allowance' his whole life and never had to work and so his rejection of capitalism and the job market feels flat in that he can say all that from a place of privilege.

i mentioned it to my professor when we'd talk bout it but honestly the most authentic beats who didnt seem hypocritical or make the movement feel hypocritical to me were those who were marginalized and didnt have a choice in rejecting society. like allen ginsberg was one the Big Beats as well and to me he is the most Beat out of the main three of him and burroughs and kerouac. cuz ginsberg was an openly gay man in a long term relationship, he was jewish and lived on the fringes of 'acceptable' american society as an outlier.

it especially goes for bob kaufman. he was always left out of the beat movement and ignored and even in modern times doesnt really get the credit and recognition that he deserves. but holy fuck if anyone was ACTUALLY beat it was him! he was a black man with a jewish father. he created poetry without ever really writing it down besides on napkins and would 'perform' his poetry on streets and yelling out poems or sticking his head in peoples cars. he did not ever seek out publishing his work and he purposefully would confuse any publishers and would lie about himself and his life so even now some of the aspects of his biography is confusing. he wanted to be forgotten! he was never concerned with actually carrying on his work or creating it and there was something beautiful in that. he was constnatly accosted by police to the point that specific officers would harass and abuse him whenever they felt like it. he actually experienced a lot of the bullshit and hardships the beats rejected and criticised. many white beat writers chose to reject social norms, but he had no choice! theres something so much more authentic about the rejection of society when you by virtue of existing cant even exist within societal norms itself.

he was just. such an interesting dude. and the beat movement abandoned him because he was too far on the fringes of society that the public couldnt accept him. motherfucker wanted that, in a way, though. like he took back his silencing by silencing himself. he wasnt being forgotten or silenced or ostracized anymore, because he wanted to be forgotten.

[latinasmoak]

the sweetest life (and the loving is easy when you’re with me)

tumblr version:

rating: mature

tags: no warnings, mutual pining, idiots in love, jealousy, colin my dramatic king, penelope is confused

Chapter Two: Strawberry Crème Brûlée p. 1

For the first time in his life, Colin Bridgerton wasn’t hungry.

Nevermind that he had invited himself over to Eloise’s and Penelope’s flat with the singular intent of sneaking in some sweets made by his favorite homebaker. All of that was swept aside, his gigantic appetite becoming non-existent at the sight displayed in front of him.

The easy upturn of his lips, a smile famous for charming all the women in his life, quickly vanished. The glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes dimmed, the words he had prepared to announce his arrival got caught in his throat; because who the hell was that man towering over Penelope in the kitchen? Why was this stranger whispering so close to her? And why was she giggling? At the sweet sound of her laughter Colin inexplicably felt a mad rush of... frustration. The urge to go and physically separate the two was overwhelming and he almost took another step inside the tiny kitchen when what happened next made his stomach drop.

The prat, after taking a spoonful of whatever it was in front of them, moaned and smiled brightly at Penelope before leaning down for a hug. Worse still, Penelope with her eyes alight with joy, happily reciprocated the embrace and wrapped her arms around him.

Colin couldn’t even begin to understand all the tumultuous feelings inside him at the sight. All he had were questions upon questions running through his mind. Who was he? How long has this been going on? Since when did she bake for someone else?  Colin shook his head as if the simple act would brush away all the unanswered questions cluttering his mind.

When he had decided on his last minute trip to Greece over two months ago, he never imagined he’d be coming home to this. Since his friendship with Penelope deepened, he found that his attention to his phone increased dramatically. What simply started off as links for recipes, became chats where they talked about anything and everything. That's when he knew that Penelope Featherington wasn’t just his family friend. She was his best friend. So why, during all the countless chats they shared while he was away, did she never mention the fact that she was dating?  

As much as he wanted to get to the bottom of all his queries, the thought of walking in and having to witness the apparently happy couple up close, made him physically ill. He just knew he couldn’t act as if all was well. Colin was struggling to come up with reasons as to why this new information didn’t bring him happiness for his friend. If anyone deserved to be in a loving relationship it was Penelope. He knew that. So why did the mere thought of her being in one make his jaw clench?

It was a small comfort that his arrival wasn’t expected. To the entirety of his family he was still in Iceland, he had made the last minute decision to cut his trip two weeks short, and instead of alerting them, Colin had been giddy at the thought of surprising them all. It had been a spur of the moment decision to drop by Eloise and Penelope’s first, before settling in the room set up for him at his mum’s place. Next time however, he’d be sure to give a heads up. He couldn’t bear to go through this again. To come unannounced and heaven forbid, see them in a more compromising position. Just the thought of it felt like someone suckerpunched him in the gut. Colin simply and quietly turned around and walked away.

“Penelope you are a genius!”  

Phillip Crane moaned as the blackberry cream melted on his tongue. He finished his spoonful of the delicious filling the lovely redhead was making before continuing his praise.

“Eloise is going to love this. I can’t even begin to thank you enough for helping me out.”

Though he was never one to initiate grand displays of physical affection, Phillip couldn’t help but reach out and hug Penelope with the utmost gratitude. Her help in his grand plan to convince Eloise that it was time to declare their relationship to their respective families was invaluable. He wanted her to meet his older brother and he wanted to finally get to know the alphabet personally. He knew that without Penelope’s support, his ideas would have never manifested as grandly as they did. That, and she had already agreed to watch his twins overnight while he wooed Eloise on a weekend getaway. If anyone needed proof that Penelope was on her way to sainthood, they only needed to learn that she volunteered to take care of his little hellions. Thank god for angels on earth.

“All you have to do is make sure my best friend is happy,”

Penelope disengages from the hug and takes a step back, making sure to look up into his eyes. The seriousness of her following words could not be ignored. She may be tiny, but the protective love she held for Eloise shrouded Penelope with unmistakable power. She could be a threat if the need arose.  

“Because if she’s miserable, or heaven forbid hurt, I will personally ensure that you will be too.”

Penelope’s voice maintained its sweet inflection, while her blue eyes turned into an icy glare. Phillip gulped before nodding solemnly.

“She’s the most magnificent woman I've ever met. If I'm the fool who makes her miserable, I deserve whatever torment you deem appropriate.”  

The ice in her demeanor melted as Penelope swooned on behalf of her friend. She patted Phillip on the chest in approval before focusing on the various ingredients before her. She had planned to make Eloise’s favorite fruit tarts but with a twist.

“I’m glad we are in agreement! Now back to the sweets. I can recreate this cream for the tarts, all I need is more berries and those edible flowers you were talking about earlier! You will have to be in charge of dinner, I can bake but cooking still eludes me.”

Penelope herself was more than happy to help Phillip in his quest of making his relationship with her best friend public knowledge. He had been smart enough to realize early on in his relationship with Eloise that Penelope’s opinion was of the utmost importance. So he tried to be friendly, even when his stoic demeanor could often be misconstrued as snobbish elitism. Penelope was keen enough to know there had to be something about him that held Eloise’s attention. In the end, they ended up bonding over literature, -though Eloise loved to tease that it was a miracle he read anything outside of his botanical interests- and gardening. Phillip soon began to gift Penelope with the excess fruit and herbs he grew in his own little greenhouse so she could turn them into magical bites of perfection.

Sworn to secrecy, Penelope never hinted or uttered a word of his existence to the other Bridgertons and in the end, the only beings who knew of this relationship were his twins and herself. Penelope was excited for the secret to be out! It was alarming how often she found herself wanting to share the news. She wanted to join in on the inevitable teasing, she was eager to brag about the fact that she knew this secret before any of Bridgertons, and she was ready for someone to complain alongside her about how sickenly sweet they were with one another. She often imagined Colin being quick to tease or annoy Eloise about it... and just like that, Penelope felt her heart ache. As thoughts of Colin were known to do.

She missed him. It was alarming how much she missed him. He's been gone before so she really had no excuse to act as if this were new, but then again, before the eclair incident she had never spent so much uninterrupted time with him. He had spoiled her with his singular attention. They still texted each other almost every day but it wasn’t the same. She had gotten used to his physical presence. The way he towered over her, often helping her get things off the top shelf. The way he would sing her a song as he cleaned the dirty dishes and she would try and harmonize with him as she dried them. She also missed his chaotic energy in her kitchen, even when it could annoy her at times. The way she would need to slap his hands away to prevent him from dipping his finger in the raw batter or when she would have to take away the bag of chocolate chips to ensure there were enough for the cookies she planned to bake. He could never stay still but it was always such fun and there was always a delicious snack at the end of the night as a reward for all their hard work. He might never love her the way she loves him, but she had gotten greedy, soaking up all the moments he freely gave her and now she was going through withdrawals. Oh Colin, how am I ever going to get over you? Do I even want to?  

After ensuring everything was going as planned, and shaking thoughts of Colin out of her mind, Penelope shooed Phillip out. Eloise was soon to return and she didn’t want the surprise to be spoiled. Penelope baking alone is no longer an odd sight, but if Eloise came home to her boyfriend being there unexpectedly, she would stop at nothing to get the whole truth.

A single beep from her phone alerted Penelope to an incoming message. Her heart picked up in pace as her anticipation rose. It's been a few days since she’s heard from Colin. The longest bout of silence since he left two months ago. Penelope took a deep breath before swiping the lockscreen away. Immediately her shoulders drooped, and she tried to temper her disappointment when she noticed that the message was from her baby sister.

Felicity: hey pen, the love of your life came back early!

Felicity: it was a shock to the whole fam, hyacinth even canceled our movie night! something about blue gifts or whatever.

Felicity: anyways, just thought you should know 😇

The initial joy at the news of his early return was quickly marred with the confusion over the total silence on his end. Did she do something to upset him? Or maybe she was making a big deal out of nothing. She really needed to stop expecting him to update her on his personal matters as if she was his girlfriend. It wasn’t fair to put those expectations on him, and it wasn’t fair that she kept disappointing herself because of her daydreams.

Penelope ignored her phone, not giving Felicity the satisfaction of adamantly protesting her feelings when they both knew she was not off the mark. Instead she pulled out a recipe she had been eyeing for weeks now. She had been waiting for Colin to come back before attempting to make it. Only she would spice it up and make it with strawberries. She knew that he had a fondness for them and she wanted this treat to be special, to be more than the usual standard.

Strawberry Crème Brûléé

She was tempted to reach out to him and ask him if he wanted to join her while she baked it, but she thought better of it. Surely the trip back home must have been exhausting and whatever energy he did have, must have been depleted after a dinner with his family, a boisterous lot that they were.

Looking over the recipe, Penelope noticed that it called for the creme brulee to chill overnight. She smiled as this offered the perfect solution, tonight she would bake the night away and keep her mind busy, and tomorrow she would invite him over and hope that she was simply imagining any weirdness she felt over the sudden silence. Grinning to herself, Penelope nodded decisively and set out to make a delicious strawberry compote.

-

Colin woke up moody, frustrated and tired.

Sleep evaded him all night; he had been plagued with nightmarish situations, each one of him of losing his best friend, of losing Pen. The more he thought about it, the more it terrified him. Penelope having a boyfriend meant that those late night baking sessions would come to an end, the constant trips to other bakeries would not be as frequent, and while Colin was sure that Penelope wasn’t the type to shun her friends in favor of her relationship, Colin wasn’t sure he could stomach the thought of being around her while she was kissing someone else. When she should be kissing me.

Colin paled as the thought crossed his mind, a thought that should not exist when Penelope was only a friend. Just a friend, friends don’t think about kissing their beautiful friends.  

Although now he couldn’t stop thinking about how plump her lips were, especially after nervously biting them while she waited for his verdict on her sweets. He wondered if they were as soft as they looked? He would have to lean down to reach them but he could already imagine himself holding her closer, pressing himself against her soft plump curves and cupping her face. Lightly biting her bottom lip before using his own tongue to soothe the sting. He wondered if she would simply gasp and let him use that to his advantage, or if she would bite him back, Penelope was unpredictable afterall, he would never know what to expect from her...

Colin groaned as pure lust slammed into him the more he thought about Penelope. He laid back in shock over how quick his mind was, to turn against him like that, but it was like a pandora’s box. Now that it was open, things would never be the same. Colin couldn’t help but look back and notice all the little things about her that made her shine. The way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and how when she blushed it was obvious for the world to see on her normally milky skin. The way she would be the first to share her food and would always offer encouraging words when needed. Colin thought of her laugh, and how loud and contagious it was, or how her bottom lip would tremble as she tried not to cry when she accidentally burnt or cut herself. All these moments rushed through his head and it killed him that someone else was learning these things about her right this very second.

Yes, her voluptuous figure, tiny stature and dark red curls were attractive on their own, but paired with her intelligent blue eyes, witty humor and overall sweetness, it was no wonder she was taken. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened sooner! How could he have been so blind? If he had never gone on his most recent trip, would he have been able to stop it from happening?

A subtle buzzing on the bedside table alerted him to his incoming messages. He blindly reached out, not even bothering to use any excess energy when all he wanted to do was waste away in bed. It’s what he was good at apparently, wasting time.

His heart began to accelerate when he noticed that it was Penelope.

Pen: a little birdy told me that you are back home.

Pen: welcome back 🥳

Pen: i was going to text you later in the day but I have something exciting to share with you!

Pen: knowing you, you’ve probably already had breakfast by now, or you're about to! come to my place right after! see you soon.

Colin could feel the cold brittle fingers of dread latch on to him. Weighing him down and chilling him to the bone. He had just come to the startling realization that he kind of, sort of liked his friend as more than just a friend and she was going to tell him all about her new relationship. Any fleeting hunger he might have felt was chased away by the churning in his stomach. And even though a large part of him wanted to make up an excuse, any excuse to get out of this sure to be painful encounter, avoiding Penelope Featherington after having spent so much time integrating his life with hers, would be like wishing it never rained in London, absolutely impossible. Taking a deep breath, Colin finally got up out of bed and went about preparing for what he was sure to be, the worst day of his life.

-

As soon as Penelope received a text from Colin, letting her know that he was on his way, Penelope pulled out two of the chilled ramekins from her fridge. She also pulled out the homemade whipped cream she had made last night, a couple of fresh strawberries and the turbinado sugar. She was quick with the knife and sliced up all the strawberries, ridding herself of the green tops and setting the rest aside once finished. She had gone all out and gotten herself a kitchen torch for the sole purpose of making that crunchy top layer that made creme brulees so fun to eat.

She was excited to have Colin try it. She had originally intended to call him over later in the day but then remembered she’d be taking care of the twins. Seeing as she didn’t want to have to explain that, Penelope figured it was best to call him now, she was just glad that he hadn’t made any morning plans already.

When Colin finally walked into her kitchen making use of the spare key, it only took a split-second to realize that something was off with him. Penelope used a kitchen towel to pat her hands dry before walking towards him. She tried to catch his gaze, but it seemed as if he was looking around for someone. Her head tilted slightly in confusion, Penelope wondered who he could possibly be looking for, surely he was aware that on Saturday mornings Eloise had brunch with his mum and sisters?

There was something downtrodden about him and the urge to comfort him came at her so fast, she was unable to resist. She didn’t really want to resist anyways. Opening her arms wide she pulled him into a hug, pleasantly surprised when he returned her embrace with gusto.

“It’s so good to see you! Am I being silly if I admit that I missed you?”

Penelope murmured into his chest. He was so damn tall, she wondered if he even caught what she was saying.

-

“Well I missed you too, so we can just be silly together.”

Colin had meant for that to come out in an upbeat, charming reply, but his body had a mind of its own, and instead he simply squeezed her tighter, he dipped his head close to hers and he softly admitted that she was no more silly than he. In fact he could have gone on to admit that he was more than silly, he was a damn fool for letting her get away, for not realizing that the feelings he had for her were more than just platonic. He wasn’t sure if it was love, but he knew that it could grow to be, it was all a moot point now, he wouldn’t even get the chance. So he held on, he breathed in her sugary sweet scent and wished that he could stay like this forever. Colin didn’t want to let go. How was he supposed to let go? In the end, he didn’t have to force himself to, she had pulled herself away.

-

As much as she would have loved to stay in his arms forever, the knowledge that something was wrong made her want to help him in whatever way she could. The way he clung to her let her know that whatever was ailing him was really serious. And she wanted to enjoy it, she wanted to close her eyes and melt in his embrace. But she felt guilty, deriving pleasure from his pain felt wrong. Knowing that food could at least partially help, Penelope withdrew from the hug and looked up at him, smiling at him softly as she tugged him closer to her counter.

“I made you something! When I found out you were back I just knew I needed to welcome you back home with style.”

“Pen, you didn’t have to do that.”

Colin rubbed the back of his neck, and Penelope wondered if the slight flush on his cheeks was him blushing or if she was just imagining things.

Penelope let go of Colin to make her way to her ramekins. She quickly and with minimal mess, poured two spoonfuls of the brown sugar on the top of the strawberry custard before spreading it around, covering the light pink creme from view.

“I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to,”

She grabbed the kitchen torch and turned it on, giggling at Colin’s alarmed reaction and wary eyes.

“Plus, I really really really  wanted to use this today.”

She directed the open flame on the sugar and giddily watched as the sugar melted and browned, turning itself into the perfect crust to crack. She felt the moment Colin stepped into her bubble, the way he was looking over her shoulder was a move he’d done in the past and she’s proud she no longer jumped or startled when he invaded her space. Her heart still races, but at least her body no longer expresses her shock at him being so close. In fact, Penelope was proud her hand was still steady. No accidental burnings yet. When the first creme brulee was finished she breathed a sigh of relief before swiftly moving to the second, finishing  that one too. Once both were done, she turned off the torch and grabbed the whipped cream, adding a generous spoonful on each, before finishing with the strawberries as a garnish.

“Ta da! A strawberry creme brulee. This is an experimental recipe so please be honest in your feedback. I think you’ll like it. I promise, no artificially flavored strawberries are found in this creme brulee!”

Penelope pushed his dessert closer to him as he had moved himself to the left of her during her explanation. She offered him a spoon and then grabbed hers. She wasn’t going to bite into it just yet, she was dying to see his reaction.

She watched as he cracked the top layer with his spoon, a satisfying snap resounding in the kitchen. He gave her a brief smile before dipping his spoon further in to capture some of the creme. Penelope flushed when she noticed his tongue lick around the spoon, not willing to miss a single bite. She just stood there, a little dazed as he dug in after that initial spoonful. She finally got ahold of herself and beamed at the way he devoured it. She managed to bite into her own and softly moaned when the velvety smooth creme melted on her tongue, the caramelized top adding the perfect crunchy texture to every bite. She had truly outdone herself.

So caught up in her own taste testing, Penelope never realized that Colin had turned stiff at the sound of her moans.  She couldn’t have known that such a little innocent sound had triggered a tsunami of misconceptions and angst. No, she didn’t know anything about the regrets swirling around Colin’s brain at the moment. She did, however, notice that he was leaning heavily on the counter, gripping the edges so tightly his knuckles appeared ghostly white.

“Colin what’s wrong? Are you feeling sick? You look a little pale…”

Penelope set her own dish down and quickly closed the small distance between them. She stood on her tiptoes so she could reach his forehead, he felt a little warm but nothing out of the ordinary. She cupped his face, wanting to get to the bottom of what was wrong.

“Colin look at me, please tell me. What happened? Did my food make you sick? Do you need to lie down?.”

Penelope lets go of his face to reach for his hands, she gently pulls his hands away from the counter, clasping them with her own. She holds them and squeezes softly, quietly letting him know that he can depend on her. She looks up at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something, anything.

-

How could he begin to explain everything that was wrong?

It was a small comfort that he didn’t have to meet her significant other, but just knowing that moments like these, where he can stand over her shoulder and just see her doing something she loves would be an activity she would share with someone else. Someone else would get to hear her make those little moans, someone else would get to make them happen in a different setting. How does he tell her that it's killing something inside him to know that it won’t be him?  How does he begin to explain that he feels this possessive urge to steal her away and never let her out of his sight? He doesn’t even know where to start. He’s not even really sure that he should.

Before he can wave her worries away, before he can reassure her that her food would never make him sick, before he could pretend like he was just feeling off. Something in him takes over and all that comes out is the most important question that will guide him in regards to how he should treat Penelope Featherington.

“Are you happy?” is all that comes out, ragged in its intensity. Colin’s eyes burning with the need to know exactly how she felt.

Whatever Penelope was expecting, it was obvious from her reaction that this was not it.

“What?!”

Colin closed his eyes briefly, gritting his teeth as he gathered the bravery necessary for this inquisition. He opened them and this time he used her grip on his hands to his advantage, bringing them up to rest against his chest. He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was beating for her.

“Are you happy? With him?”

|| CHAPTER THREE  ||  || AO3 ||

[kissmyafropuff]

Shooting Star (3)

Hello Beloveds!

Now, before anyone else calls me out, I’ll admit it myself that I’ve been slacking. It’s been way too fucking long since I posted chapters 1 & 2– my bad. 😬 Just love me, okay? A bitch is out here living a whole ass life.

If you don’t want to be tagged, let me know. If you do want to be tagged, let me know. 

Here it is y’all, Chapter 3.

Author’s Note: I am very new to this, so be kind to me.

Warnings: Idk what goes here? Swearing? Use of the n word is inevitable.

Words: ~ 1.8K

Enjoy my loves xo 🖤✨

Chapter 2

The air was thick. Almost opaque with the fear and anger; frustration and impotence rolling off of Erik and all around those nearest him. Why had her eyes zeroed in on his daughter, and why had the trio taken a collective glance at each other? Erik tried to shift Aurora away from the thieves' sightline, but they’d locked in. They had seen her necklace, and it was apparent to all around them that this was what they were really after.

Zora attempted to break their laser-like focus on the child, “Look. The alarm has an auto trip function. Anything or anyone so much as cracks that glass above and it alerts the local police and SWAT. You’ve got 3 more minutes tops before--”

“You shut her up, or I will.” Tatania never took her eyes off of Aurora’s necklace, but calmly and swiftly silenced Zora with a delicate yet deadly looking blade which just seemed to appear in her hand. She twirled it-- gracefully, almost majestically, but no less menacingly.

Puck went to Zora quickly and shook his head at her, revealing some of the short and gruesome cuts all over his neck and upper torso, just below his collar bones, trying to do for her what no one seemed to have done for him: shut her before things got worse. The sight of Titania wielding that knife seemed to have relieved him of his incessant chatter.

Nothing in Erik’s life could prepare him for this moment. No amount of time in the SEALs, nor number of deployments to Afghanistan could have prepared him with the tools to quell the fear which had taken root in his belly. The almost palpable tension in the air had him in a cold sweat; perspiration covering his whole body in a matter of moments, causing his black v-neck t-shirt to cling to his torso, his palms slick with the ever growing reality that he is outnumbered and outgunned while this psycho bitch has her focus zeroed in on his babygirl.

“My, my, my. What a beautiful little flower you are, ma petite” Titania practically purred as she made her way across the bank’s lobby. She pulled up just short of the Stevens family.

“Errrrrriiiiiiiiiiik!”

He didn’t need to see Portia’s face to know she was upset with something. He also didn’t need either degree from MIT to know that if he didn’t hurry his narrow ass up those stairs to help her, it would only get worse. He sped up.

“Yea, bae. What’s up?”

“This is all your fault! I hate you for talking me into this, and I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

The morning sickness had been almost non-stop since her first trimester.

“Can I get you some Saltines? Tea? A ginger ale? Anything? Fuck, lemme get you a cool cloth.”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m just being bratty,” Portia said, head still in the bowl, ready to offer up yet another sacrifice to the porcelain gods. She knew that being miserable for the last 7 and a half months wasn’t Erik’s intent when he first brought up trying for a kid. He’d grown up longing for a family for so long, and from what little she’d shared about her own, he knew that her’s wans’t close. Building a family, just the two of them, had been his dream for the first two years of their marriage. When they decided to start trying, Portia didn’t expect them to be so...good… at it. Within the first month of trying, it seemed to have taken, because within the first 6 weeks, she was puking every day.

Loudly. Painfully. Incessantly.

“It’s not bratty behavior when there’s actually something upsetting you.”

“Mon chou, I’m not upset. Your child is just tossing and turning in there, and I’m riding that wave of sea sickness. I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve only got literal days at this point. This little butter bean will be here before we know it,” Portia finished weakly, lifting her head and trying to reassure him with a grimace she hoped looked more like a smile.

“Uh, bae. I love you, but you gone stop calling my daughter a fuckin bean.”

“Well, since someone can’t agree with his wife on a name or even agree to find out the sex, it looks like I’m sticking to veggies and fruits. Maybe I’ll just call him Mommy’s Little Kiwi.”

“Aye--”, Erik responded with a deadly look in his eye, “ No daughter of mine is gone be some dumbass Kiwi. If ANYTHING, she’s a pomegranate. She regal as fuck.”

Portia erupted into laughter. It was just the right kind of laugh to help her get out of wallowing from her morning technicolor yawn. Erik helped her to her feet, and she washed her face and brushed her teeth.

“Okay, well, if we can’t agree on a fruit or vegetable, should we move from edibles to something else? We have to call him something.”

“HER name will come to us as soon as we lay eyes on her. How am I supposed to name my daughter before I ever see her?”

Portia tried a different tactic. “Well, it would help us if we just knew what sex we should be expecting, then we could be compiling a list of names to choose from. That way when he, or she -- she interjected quickly-- makes an appearance, we have a short list. Can we at least agree to a short list? We won’t even have to make a decision, we’ll just have a jumping off point today.”

“Fine,” Erik acquiesced. “Let’s start with the boys, it don’t really matter no way,” he said sucking his teeth.

“Excuse me,” Portia questioned, incredulously.

“I’m just sayin, ma. I know you carrying my little Princess. I just know it!”

Portia looked up into her favorite eyes in the world. Their depths fathomless when he was this full of love, and their color reminded her of the vanilla beans her grandmother used when making fresh ice cream when Portia was a young girl. She couldn’t deny him anything when he looked at her like this. If she had the power to snap her fingers and move heaven and earth to give him a daughter in that moment, she’d do it.

“Okay, well just humor me.” Portia asked they dressed to head out of the house.

They came up with a list of three names for a boy: Oscar, Maurice, and Bryan

For the girls, Erik wanted to stick to more of a theme. While he may have fought at the beginning to not even go down this path, now that he was here, he was determined not to walk away from this conversation without landing on his daughter’s name.

“Okay, how about this: she can have one name from each of us.” It was a little hard to hear Portia’s words, coming through muffled since she was presently stuck trying to slip one of Erik’s hoodies over her puffy hair and swollen midsection.

Smart enough to not comment on his wife’s dilemma, Erik just set out to help her finish pulling it down over her belly, and without a word on her current predicament, went to the closet to grab her slides.

“I like it,” Erik agreed. “But which names? I don’t have any family names I want to pull from. The only woman in my life growing up was my moms, and she was gone so soon, I wouldn’t even want to lay all of that on a little one,” Erik quietly confessed to his wife.

“Let’s see. She could have a name from the Xhosa language for her heritage and family on your side. I don’t know what to do for mine.” Portia was almost ready to go, just looking for her favorite hair wrap to tie up her mane.

Erik was quiet for a moment. Heart still grieving a mother and relationship long gone, while still overflowing with love for this swollen, smart mouthed woman that he knew his mom would’ve adored.

“Anathi,” he said before he realized it. “It means ‘they are with us’. Seems pretty fitting, huh?”

Portia’s eyes caught his in the mirror as she tucked the last end of fabric in her wrap. Both sets were bright with tears.

“I love it,” she whispered, words barely audible. “But what are we going to do about a first name?”

“Well, I like that thing your family has going on. All of y’all are named after women in literature, but they also are the names of constellations, right? How about, Juliet?”

“Nigga! I am not naming my daughter after some little precocious child who thought she was in love and wound up offing herself over some knucklehead boy before they even turned 16. Try again.”

“Astrid,” Erik risked, only to be rewarded with a sharp sniff coming from Portia’s direction as she gathered her keys and wallet.

“Aurora!” He exclaimed.

“Pretty sure I’ve never read that name as a leading lady in any story,” Portia countered, her haughty ass attitude slowly slipping away. These mood swings were getting out of hand.

“Fuck. I just couldn’t deal with you gettin any snippier, so I just thought of the most beautiful sight I could think of that made me think of the stars,” he answered, bashfully, putting on his finishing touches, and grabbing his phone, wallet, and keys.

“It’s perfectly, imperfect. Not quite what we set out for, and somehow precisely what we needed.  Aurora Anathi Stevens. I love it, mon chou.”

His dimples took over his whole face. “Really? I just wanted her to have a little of both of us in her name. She gets your family’s bougie ass legacy with names, and one of mine as a reminder of all the ancestors who’ve come before us.”

Portia was practically bouncing in place she was so happy. “I love it. Really, really.” She took a heavy, negro spiritual sigh. “I have to call my family and tell them we’ve landed on a name. We don’t talk much, but they at least need to know.”

“How bout this: you call them while I drive. I think we’ve earned a very nice breakfast of your choosing. Naming my daughter is kind of a big fuckin deal and all; let’s celebrate.”

“Oooh! I know just what I want.”

Erik rolled his eyes and mouthed along, “Strawberry pancakes.” It was the same thing Portia had been craving this whole pregnancy. One short stack order of strawberry pancakes with blueberry syrup.

“Aiight now, but don’t be tryna pick off my plate. I’m getting chocolate chip pancakes, and I ain’t sharin’ shit.”

They climbed into his car just as Portia’s family answered her call.

“Hello, Erik.”

That cadence. The subtle lilt of an accent she’s tried through years of practice to discard. Fuck.

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